


your mess is mine

by seaworn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Like vaguely but putting it out there anyway, M/M, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn
Summary: Sex with Harry was safe. It was like coming home after a long journey. It was warm smells, soft fabrics and stress melting away and making your eyes droop. (It was different with Harry, Draco knew, because for the first time he trusted someone, but he didn’t let himself dwell on the thought.)





	your mess is mine

Draco’s had his fair share of sex. First, the awkward kind, messy fumbling in dark hallways between periods with boys he never remembered the names of, the fear of someone walking in on them not quite working as a catalyst but instead making finishing  _hard._ He’s had exciting sex, in clubs and bedrooms of faceless people, the kind that was bordering on painful because of all the adrenaline threatening to knock you over. He’s had repetitive sex with a few acquaintances, the kind where you realise in the middle of that you should have stopped fucking them three weeks ago already. He’s had weird sex, playing along with other people’s kinks while not quite feeling them himself. He’s had good sex too, of course, with men who knew exactly which strings to pull to make him  feel lightheaded.

  
But he’s not experienced sex like  _this_  before. Sex with Potter. _Harry._

  
Sex with Harry was  _safe._  It was like coming home after a long journey. It was warm smells, soft fabrics and stress melting away and making your eyes droop. (It was different with Harry, Draco knew, because for the first time ever he trusted someone to let his guard down, but he didn’t let himself dwell on the thought.)

  
Safe didn’t mean boring, though. Harry demanded Draco’s attention, making Draco look at him, locking his emerald green eyes to Draco’s. It was ridiculous. Draco’s had men who were ten times more imaginative in bed than Harry was, and yet no-one could keep Draco’s attention like Harry did.

  
Harry wanted Draco to focus solely on him. Not as a display of domination, but simply because he was  _so. eager._  to connect with Draco. Harry smiled at him, asked pointless questions and was constantly talking. Sometimes he lost the plot, asking  _‘hey, did you remember to owl Pansy like you promised? To tell that we’re coming over after Christmas?’_ like the tactless prick that he was. But more often:  _‘that feels good, yeah? this angle is good, i can tell - you keep shuddering every time i - yeah, that, just that - Draco, fuck, you feel amazing’_ , which wasn’t such horrible stuff to say if you’re doomed to babble your sex life away.

  
Harry panted against him, kissing him messily every place he could reach, not hiding his noises but still managing to bite his own lips until they were red and raw. He never stopped  _looking_ , always keeping an eye on Draco, drinking in all of his reactions like they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever experienced.

  
(That’s why they fucked face to face the first weeks of their time together, with Draco’s legs on Harry’s shoulders, around his waist or splayed open on his lap. Draco hadn’t had the heart to demand anything else, even when he wouldn’t have allowed any of his other bedpartners the kind of performance that mostly consisted of  _staring and kissing_ in the most boring position ever invented. Harry felt disconnected, Draco suspected, if he couldn’t see Draco properly, so he’d shut up about his wishes about being taken from behind, at first.  But since he was nothing but inventive, he’d charmed the wall to look like a mirror and ordered Harry to fuck him in front of it. That had worked out _splendidly_.)

  
Draco used to care more about practical things when it came to sex, but with Harry such trivialities like sex positions and stamina didn’t count as much. He cared about their dynamics, how well they seemed to fit together. It was just  _that._  Intense and something that was just for them, between them, however boring it may seem.

  
“Harry, Harry, shut up “, Draco gritted his teeth together because Harry was  _talking_   again. It was unnecessary for anyone to be talking all the bloody time, and Draco tried to be annoyed about it but somehow along the way he’d managed to get himself hooked on Harry Potter’s babbling, of all the things in the world. Good grief.

  
“No. Look at me, please, Draco”, Harry whined above him. He was sweating, forearms flexing with the effort of keeping Draco’s thighs open and up.  He really looked phenomenal, Draco thought hazily. He was so  _vibrant_ , every cell of him alive and running, full of colour.

  
Draco couldn’t ever deny Harry in these kind of moments, so he looked at Harry’s green eyes that were overpowered by his black irises. His glasses were on the bedside table, and that made his eyes look glassy and unfocused, made  _him_  look fragile and easy to hurt. Instinctively Draco wrapped his arms tighter around Harry’s neck.

  
“Have you have enough time to think?” Harry asked, voice shaky.  

  
“You’re an  _idiot_ , the way you keep trying to carry on a normal conversation with me. And you didn’t exactly give me any time to think before you started doing t-that”, Draco managed to say between the slow, slow,  _slow_ thrusts. Harry seemed to love making his thrusts more intentional and long, just to hear Draco’s breath hitch. “And -” , he added, fighting back an honest-to-god whimper, “you can’t ask me things during sex, it’s cheating.”

  
Harry grinned, flashing Draco his wicked-brilliant trademark smile.  “That’s fine - oh, shit, fuck, don’t move - I’ll just ask you again”, he panted and leaned in close, gripping Draco’s thighs tighter and spreading them wider. Then gave a hard, solid thrust. “And again”, he said, “and again, again,  _again._ ”

  
Draco swore as white spots danced behind his eyelids. “Yes”, he sighed. “Keep asking, don’t give up.”

  
“Never“, Harry grunted and let a string of curses, followed by a delirious  _‘please, now? Draco, fuck’._

  
Draco bit his lip, curled his fist around himself and came, shuddering and breathing deep against Harry, who moaned and dropped his head onto Draco’s chest.

  
The moment after ejaculating and before he world began to take shape again was Draco’s favourite. The moment when he and Harry were both running hot, hearts racing and bodies still shivering and connected in every possible way, their scents combining and magic mingling in the air. It was good, being disconnected from the world like that for a while, only being able to focus on feeling. It was that feeling Draco was always after. With Harry it always lasted longer, and coming back to the surface wasn’t filled with anxiety and cold like it used to do .

  
It took some time before Draco could relax his muscles. Without bothering to open his eyes, he wiggled his thighs, and Harry helped his legs back down, kissing both of his knees before letting go of them. He didn’t cast a cleaning spell on them, not yet. Harry liked the sweat and all other bodily fluids on them. He always eventually cleaned them both, so Draco put up with feeling filthy for a few minutes.

  
Draco’s mind was quiet. Usually  _quiet_ meant restless for him, but recently it had become something that meant Draco could breathe a little bit easier. If he were to talk with his Mind Healer now, she’d say that Harry was good for him, and Draco wouldn’t probably argue. Harry managed to keep him occupied just by being there, drinking his awfully sweet Earl Grey, snoring next to him, arguing with the portraits of Grimmauld Place while Draco read in front of the fire. It wasn’t just the sex and those devastatingly green eyes, Draco knew.

“So. How about now?” Harry asked, having gotten his breath back. He looked adorable, flushed deep red, locks of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He arranged himself half on top of Draco and rested his head on his chest. Draco thought he looked like a damn puppy, looking up at him like that. “And may I remind you that phenomenal sex like that is on the menu every day if you say yes”, Harry added, grinned and reached for his glasses.

  
Draco snorted. “Like it isn’t already.”  He smiled and stroked Harry’s back idly with his fingers. He had the strangest feeling that Harry like  _this_ , exactly like this, in this moment, belonged to him and no-one else.

  
Harry frowned and was quiet for a beat. “I’ll promise to - hmm, no, I already do that to you… I have - no, shit, your bath is actually a lot nicer than mine…I’ll, hmm, I’ll have to fix the stairs at least, I think.”  He stroked Draco’s chest with his finger, then let a bemused sound.  “Now that I think of it, I don’t know why I asked. My place is a  _dump._ ”

  
The voice in Draco’s head that made him freak out about things like this, the voice that reminded that everything he touched tended to turn to mud, was somewhere in the back of his mind. It was still there, nagging and getting ready to give him a full-blown panic attack, but  Draco couldn’t do else than to silence it. How could he, when Harry was planting kisses on him, drowsing in his lap, happy to have anything Draco gave him? And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Draco could ruin them both. Harry begged and persuaded Draco and constantly tried to woo him, to win him over. But if Draco wanted to keep Harry at arm’s length for the rest of their time together, Harry wouldn’t push for more. Not if Draco said no. It was a heartbreaking thought.

  
“It has potential”, Draco mused out loud, pushing away his grim musings with effort.

  
In seconds, Harry’s head flipped up, black hair swishing around. “Was that a yes?”

  
Draco laughed and decided that maybe, maybe Harry Potter was just worth it all. “Yes, it’s a yes. Though a part of me wants to prolong answering just because you’re  _very_  good at persuading when you want something.”

  
Harry grinned, open and honest, and Draco’s heart clenched.

  
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something to persuade you about. Like, I was thinking about having burgundy carpets and drapes for the living room, maybe a couple of golden -”

  
“You wouldn’t dare, you shit.”

  
“Ah, well, if I  _really_ wanted to, I’d just need to - what?  Sit on your cock?”

  
Draco huffed. “You just keep trying, Potter.”

  
“Oh, I will”, Harry mumbled in the way that meant he would be asleep in minutes. He snuggled closer to Draco, arranging his bony limbs and pulling the duvet over them both. “Though - not now, I think. Ask me in the morning. Or in three hours.” He whispered something against Draco’s chest and the bedroom lost its yellowy glow. The only light they had was the one coming from the window, the early August nights not so dark yet.

  
“In three hours you’ll be snoring and drooling on your pillow.”

  
“ _Our pillow_ , Draco”, Harry said and Draco wondered if he was going to correct him every time from now on.

  
He pondered, in the darkness of Harry’s master bedroom. The walls smelled a little bit of mould and stuffy because Harry didn’t know how to renovate a dying house, with or without magic. The floors were dusty, the carpets worn out, the portraits on the walls shouting hostile things whenever you walked past them and the boy in his lap an absolute disaster. This was probably going to end up badly. Of all of his stupid ideas this was quite certainly the worst.

  
Draco found that he didn’t mind all that much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Come say hi to me @ [tumblr](http://www.dotingdamen.tumblr.com) ! All comments are greatly appreciated as English is not my first language and I'm a nervous bean, eek.


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